Friday, September 25, 2009

Country Dog Behavior - Part Zwei: The Welcome and the Good Life

NOTE 1: This blog was originally posted on September 25th, but I finally got a picture of Stinky when I was forced to go into my "stealth ninja" mode. Tee-hee. She never even knew I was there...

NOTE 2: For the purposes of simplicity, I will refer to Alex's parents as Mom and Dad for the remainder of this post. Thank you.

Well, HELLLLOOO everyone! Yes, I am back! Now, let's get right down to business because I know you've all been eagerly awaiting with bated breath (yep, Alex isn't the only one getting smarter by going back to school! I've been sleeping in the office by the dictionary...apparently learning by osmosis really works...who knew!) about what exactly differs in my behavior when I visit the country. Now, now...don't go assuming that my awesomeness doesn't transfer cause it sure as hell does! Baby, this awesome used to only speak German! I got multilingual awesome. Learn it, live it, love it. Okay, now where were we....ah yes! Country Dog Behavior - Part 2: The Welcome and

(FYI: that stupid effing shirt says "...the good life". I hate it but thought you might like seeing me humiliated. Enjoy cause there's no more freebies.)

As we have already established, by the time we turn into the little neighborhood that Alex's parents live in (and yes, it is actually in the country...they have 12 acres and deer!), both me and my roomie are SOOOO ready to get out of the car. If Alex's off key singing or her phone conversations are boring me or she doesn't need my help getting out a ticket, then I like to nap to prepare for my welcome. When we start getting close though, Alex feels like she needs to ask me "Are we nearly there?" in a really annoying voice. I mean, c'mon. I never figured out how to work that TeleNav crap on her Blackberry and besides, haven't we been here enough that you know where you used to live?! God, I can't imagine how lost this chick was before I adopted her. Jeez! You're the one with the steering wheel for crying out loud, ya know what I mean? Let me have it if you can't handle it. Moving on...

Of course, when we are going down the driveway (which I will elaborate on later), my window must be rolled down. I whine and bark a little to let my roomie know this is the right house (the idiot) and when we pull up, Alex knows not to even try to take her seatbelt off or turn off the engine because I am getting out. Whichever one of the big dogs, Frankie or Pedro, is out comes up to the car door and I have to tell him what's up so he'll quit trying to drool on me (men, right?). Queen Bee is back, bitch (or whatever the other word is that means a male dog instead of female). Then if it's Frankie, he's kind of like the trumpet that you hear before the king or queen walks and he barks to let everyone know I'm coming. Pedro just pees on the tires. Then it is straight to the back door (not the garage one- it's scary!) to see Mom and Dad. Sometimes Alex makes me so proud...I mean, she doesn't even try to get my bags out of the car before she opens the house door for me. It's just so great when all of your hard work pays off, ya know? Sigh. She really is a smart kid sometimes.

Anyways, I walk in and let them know I'm here (if they didn't hear Frankie's announcement). They both come running to the door (or they should at least) and I tell them about my day and how horrible the drive was and how good it is see them and have you lost weight, Mom? You know, the usual convos. Pretty standard.

Now, what time of night or day we arrive determines which important duties I must fulfill shortly after arrival. I'm not even sure how they function without me. Lord only knows the chaotic mess that ensues without my iron paw ruling (God, I'm articulate). Since most of the time it's in the evenings, we'll start there and work our way back to the night after that. Before we get into it though, I'd like to discuss a few things that I really like about the country.
  • I don't have to see Alex if I don't want to while I'm there! 

  • I don't have to entertain Alex all the time myself. I'm sure you understand what I mean...everyone likes to mix things up from time to time and I'm no exception. I guess I like when she chases me, but it's fun when other people do it too. Not to mention the way Mom handles that duck toy! Man! She makes sure that she doesn't pull my beard during tug-o-war AND that I get control of the squeaky part! That's right, folks. Life doesn't get much better than that.

  • No one picks up my poop. Okay, you know you think its weird too! I mean, when I even start to think about doing my little preparation waddle (or my "poop walk" if you are tacky, Alex), then my roomie is putting on that dark green mitt and making sure she has a clear view of where it falls. I don't even go in the bathroom when she has to go! I experience a freedom in the country that only a lucky few will ever know. No one knows where I go #2 at, but it's not in the yard!

  • No one tells me to be quiet. Yeah right, the neighbors, yada-yada. Whatever. You're just pissed cause I saw that girl and her scrawny mutt first.
  • CATS! Mama Kitty is the oldest. She has only had one-count 'em-ONE litter of kittens ever but goes by the name anyways. Think it's because she's the oldest. We go way back (that's her and Dad with me in the first pic). The other one is Stinky...aptly (another good word, right) named because she used to not know how to clean herself and reaked to high countertops (which I estimate are about as high as Heaven and could even be Heaven with all of the food that gets placed on them). I mean, I know it's not classy to lick yourself in public, but damn, girl. Your butt something about that. Maybe then you wouldn't get put outside at night. Think it through. Stinky also lays in really strange positions all over the place and likes to get in the way. That's her taking up all the friggin' room on the living room couch. She should just be thankful that I prefer Mom's chair...yeah, cause otherwise we'd have a problem on our paws which I would not mind dealing with - let me tell you! And by deal with, I mean chase her until I get close and then avoid eye contact while simultaneously barking and furiously waggling my nub. That's right...every action has consequences and sometimes that means facing my wrath. Anyways, those felines are just too damn chase-able for their own good.

  • Dad. Now there's a man that really knows how to treat the ladies. I knew I liked him when I first saw him. We have a really special relationship. He always makes sure that I'm taken care of. Like, whenever Mom and Dad are busy that day or have to go out, then he leaves Animal Planet on for me. In both the game room and the living room because he knows that my security details require rotation. The windows have very different views, as you can see here, and allow me to scan the horizon and protect the house while they're out. AND, if I haven't gotten to get out of the house, then we go for a ride in his truck to town (he leaves the window down the whole time) and stop by Bush's Chicken, where I get my own cup of ice and he feeds it to me on the way home. He's the greatest. Here are my posts. The one on the left is the living room and the right is the game room.

Whew, I didn't realize how much stuff there is to tell you! I think this post is going to have to hold you for awhile. Apparently this 'Country Dog Behavior' is going to be longer than the Godfathers. Hopefully the third installment doesn't blow though like that one did. You know it did, DeNiro. Don't be mad at me, Bobby. I don't make the rules. Anyways, I've gotta jet. I like to get in bed by at least 11 so I can get Alex up for the dog park or Greenbelt before class. Lazy killed the cow (you curiousity killed the cat?). Thanks to Preslee for making that statement once. And yes, Alex, that was a fat joke directed at you. Bite me.

And as you can see I'm getting cranky. BUT before I go, Congrats to Mister Olive for winning Best Schnauzer in the Austin American Statesman Readers Poll. Pretty awesome, but ya know, I didn't enter because Alex never gets me groomed. Or because I hate to bathe...probably one of those. Whatever. Way to represent, Olive!

One more thing, everyone please keep Zack in your thoughts as he recovers from surgery. And, Zack, if you have names, hun, you get those to me when you can. I know pitbulls with anger issues. We'll handle it.

To keep you happy, I'll leave you with this little video. I call it "Nub Wagglin' Goodness". If that doesn't cheer up your day, then you are probably not the audience I'm trying to reach. Go look at some news website. We don't need your kind here.

Until next time...

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